Shadow
by Wings of the Jay
Summary: Isabella is an assassin. She can kill without a second thought or emotion. Her employer tells her its for the 'greater good' and she believes them. But where does the werewolf and vampire come into play?
1. Shadow

It's kind of funny how people never notice the shadows. The shadows of people on the sidelines, always watching and waiting. When they're finally acknowledged, they receive sneers and dark words. Sometimes they're discarded like dolls that everyone has outgrown, forgotten deep within someone's closet. But the shadows don't forget. They never forget. They remember all the harsh words and experiences others have given them and as they skulk in the shadows, hate builds within them. A hate so furious that they must retaliate. Don't the others who inflict such misery on them hear about the shootings at schools? Don't they realize that such situations can happen anyway? Not until they end up at the end of a gun wielded by a shadow.

I, Isabella Swan, was a shadow. I glide through life unnoticed, but unlike other shadows I don't hate, I laugh. I laugh at those so blind not to see what's right in front of their eyes. To be so unsuspecting.

Unlike other shadows, I don't want to kill them. I have no emotions toward killing them, and yet my mission is to kill people.

I grew up nearly alone in the small town of Forks. My mother died giving birth to me and my father soon followed her with a heavy heart. I was sent to a foster home where I met him, Jacob. He was my best friend and was always there for me. As the years past at the foster home, Jake changed and with him, I guess I did too. He viewed life differently; in a darker sense then most people. He became quiet and reserved and so did I, by his influence.

Then he disappeared. I became a zombie, you could say. It was like all life itself had been sucked out of me when he wasn't there. Then, a month later, he returned.

It had been in the dead of the night when he had tapped on my window. He told me we needed to leave the foster home. To leave it and all the memories we had shared there behind. Life was changing. He was changing.

Of course I left with him. I had spent my childhood following Jake and I wasn't about to break the habit. We took a car down to Seattle and found a deserted warehouse where we camped out a bit.

On most days I could barely catch a glimpse of Jacob, for he was out on the streets of Seattle most of the time. When I did, though, I complained to him how bored I was and how he never spent time with me anymore.

A little later he decided he was going to train me in the arts of defense and _killing. _When I questioned him, he just gave the same answer: that I had wanted to spend time with him and do something more interesting. I just let it slide and tried not to think about it most of the time.

Months later, when I was waiting for our usual practice he didn't show up. It was late when he entered the warehouse. I questioned him, but he didn't say anything, he just handed me a folder and left.

The folder contained a file on a teenage boy who about a year older than me that went to the high school.

The next morning Jacob returned. He told we had been assigned a special job for the 'greater good' and that we would accept it. I had been enrolled in that high school a few days ago, he informed me and that I was to kill the guy in the file. Incredulous, I refused. I was not going to kill some innocent guy.

Jake became angry and started yelling at me about how me, refusing could kill us both, and that the guy wasn't innocent. He was a threat to society.

Out of fear of Jake, I went to the high school. I was able to find the guy, but no matter how much I tried I couldn't bring myself to kill him. Sure it would be easy, I could just snap his neck, but I was human. And I was flawed.

When I did end up killing it was a mere accident, or that's what I like to think of it as. He was shoved with a second story window of the school and I remember standing in the shattered glass staring through the broken window with horror. I fled the scene immediately and that high school never saw me again.

As the years and the assignments passed by I found killing easier. I could stand next to a dead body with no emotion, stab someone without a second thought, even look into their lifeless eyes without the horror I had felt on that first mission.

I was Isabella Swan. Shadow and assassin.

**Yeah, I know not the greatest… It's just an intro, but I still want to know what you guys think of the idea… Anyway, I'll try and get the next chapter out over the weekend.**


	2. Mission

I gazed down at the newspaper, not really reading it. My eyes glazed over as my mind wandered to places other than here. At my spot at the table I sat hunched over, my hair brushing against the paper in my hand. A half-eaten piece of toast sat on a plate not too far from me. I didn't think much of it, I wasn't really hungry.

I knew what this morning would hold, what folder would be slid under my nose. It was unavoidable, I had returned to the warehouse just over a week ago for my previous mission and now it was time for me to leave again. That's the way it always worked.

I briefly wondered whom I would have to take out this time. Whose life that would be ending prematurely? Whose heart would stop beating? I shuddered and shoved those thoughts out of my head. It was best when I didn't dwell on these things for too long.

As my mind drifted away from unpleasant topics, it started focusing on the perks of my job. What new place would I be visiting this time? What new adventure would I embark on? I loved to travel and see the world.

A small smile spread across my face as I thought of all the places I had been and the things I'd seen. I had loved New York the most, probably. With all the hustle and bustle of New York City, it had been the easiest to frame a murder as an accident.

_No,_ I thought, shrinking within myself, _don't go there._

And it was then, at my most vulnerable state, that Jake walked in. How freakin' lovely.

"Morning," he yawned walking in to the open kitchen area. My body tensed up and my fists clutched at the newspaper that I had forgotten that I was holding.

"Hey," I said, trying to hold my voice as steady as possible. After all, Jacob had been the one to tell me that showing weakness would be my downfall.

I neatly folded up the newspaper, ignoring the crumpled edges from my hands holding it too tight and tossed it to Jake, who caught it.

He was only clothed with a pair of faded jeans with a black belt to hold it up. His chest was bare, showing off his toned muscles.

"Lose your shirt on the way here?" I asked, raising an eyebrow while trying to calm my thumping heart. I was almost sure he could hear it or even smell my fear.

But I couldn't let him have that pleasure or share that knowledge. After all, most knew me as Isabella Swan, the heartless and professional assassin.

Easily I slid on my mask of cold and uncaring as Jacob turned to look at me a smile playing on his face. "Like what you see?"

I snorted. "In your dreams, idiot." Toying with the thought of throwing my uneaten piece of toast, I stared at the happy face of my best friend. Releasing the idea, I shrugged and took a bite out of it.

_Cold._ I wrinkled my nose and dropped the offending article back onto the plate. I wasn't that hungry anyway.

Jacob, still smiling, was pouring himself a bowl of cereal. He unscrewed the top of the milk and tilted it above the bowl. I opened my mouth to warn him, but it was too late. Lumps spilled out with the milk and I winced as they plopped onto the cereal. Jake grimaced and chucked the spoiled milk into the trash along with the contents of bowl.

"Great," he sighed and wandered over to the fridge. "Do you know if we've got any more milk?"

"Nope," I said, leaning back on my chair causing it to creak and groan with the strain.

"Well that's helpful," he grumbled pushing things aside in an attempt to find himself more milk and then sighing again when he found none. "Now what am I supposed to have?"

"Toast?" I suggested innocently, holding up my discarded breakfast.

Ignoring my comment he moved to the cabinets and started his search again for some breakfast. After a few minutes of rummaging and coming up sort he groaned in defeat and leaned against the counter. "How do we not have any food?"

"We have toast." I grinned lazily waving around my bread again.

He glared at me, then stalked over to where I sat and snatched it away from me. Almost growling, he took a vicious bite out of it. I watched as his anger turned to disgust.

"What the-" he spat out the cold toast and turned to glare at me again.

I held up my hands and tried to staunch my giggles. "I didn't say my toast."

He rolled his eyes and my toast joined the milk and cereal in the trash.

His face contorted with an emotion that I wasn't familiar with and his shoulders rose with tension. "I've got something for you," he said, turning his back to me and walking out of the room.

"Damn," I muttered and ran a hand through my hair. My heart that had calmed down for a bit, started speeding up. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment willing myself to hold it together. When I opened them again, Jacob had returned to the open area carrying the dreaded white folder.

He dropped it on the table in front of me and left wordlessly.

I wasn't sure how long I sat there, staring at the obscenity as the white glared back. Finally, after a long, frozen silence I scooped it up and headed for my room.

The warehouse that we currently resided in was two stories tall and wide and spacious. The only two rooms that we had claimed for ourselves had used to hold the more valuable objects. I paused before entering mine, to stare at the keypad that I had smashed in to gain easy entrance.

Kicking my door open, I strode across the room and plopped down on my bed, releasing the folder so it sat next to me on the comforter.

There was another long pause before I dared to even look at it again. Pulling myself into a sitting position, I reached for it with trembling fingers, not minding the hair that fell into my face and tickled at my nose.

Whose profile was in it? Tentatively I cracked it open and peered in. I was met with a breathtaking photo of a young man.

He was paler than me, which was saying something since I dwelled out of the sun most of the time. His eyes were a beautiful, but unnatural golden color and his bronze hair was perfectly messy in a wind swept way.

Intrigued, I opened the folder all the way to see whom exactly this guy was that put the gods to shame.

Name? Edward Cullen. _Hmm, old fashioned._

Age? 17. _Same as me._

Location? Forks, Washington. _Where the hell is that?_

Family? Carlisle Cullen (father), Esme Cullen (mother), Emmett Cullen (brother), Rosalie Hale (sister), Jasper Hale (brother), and Alice Cullen (sister). _Big family._

Hobbies? Piano. _That doesn't give me much wiggle room for ways of accidental death._

School? Forks High. _What, no spoons?_

Mission? Get in and out as fast as you can whilst eliminating the target without drawing unwanted attention. Like usual.

Sighing, I snapped the folder shut and tossed it aside. Now to find more information on Forks.

I pulled my laptop into my lap and opened it up to reveal my pale blue screen saver. I opened the Internet and started my search.

First I searched for a map to find where exactly in Washington Forks was. Right on the tip, I observed rather close to the ocean.

Next I used the trusty Wikipedia to find general information on the town and found a rather small population. But the weather information chilled my blood.

Personally, I rather despise the cold weather, but I also am an enemy of the sun. So I just stay indoors. Knowing I wouldn't be able to stay inside for my whole trip to Forks I grimaced as I gazed at highs of 65's. In the summer. Oh joy.

And than there's the rain. Lots of rain apparently. I better bring my coat.

Shutting my computer, I pushed it off to the side. It was time to pack and plan the end of Edward Cullen.

**Love it? Hate it? Want to stab it ferociously? Let me know. Criticism is lovely, for it lets me know what I'm doing wrong. I update when I can. Until next time,**

**-Jay**


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